It's that time of the week again. What time of the week, you ask? Why, it's Two Shoes Tuesday!
As I was sitting here waiting for the light to go off in my head, I was brought back to my childhood. I grew up in a nice neighborhood in Southern California. Well, it was nice to me, even though the grownups on our street probably had another word for it. You see, the Santa Ana Freeway abutted our backyard. Yes, three lanes of northbound traffic on the 5 freeway was my lullaby every night. People traveling from San Diego through Orange County and on to Los Angeles and who knows how far north . . . San Francisco, perhaps, or even Seattle. The swooshing of the 65 mph cars, the occasional honking and squealing of brakes . . . all sweet sounds to a little girl. Not exactly Brahms Lullaby, but it worked.
Anyway, we had a street light in front of our house. It was really tall, and when you banged it with a baseball bat it made a loud hollow sound. The sound reverberated . . . forever. You would touch it after banging it and your hands would feel really weird. It was awesome.
That street light played a very big role in my childhood. It was homebase when we played tag. It was the drum when we made our music. And, maybe most importantly . . . it was the reminder to us that it was time to go in. Yes, as soon as the street light went on, we knew it was time to go into the house. It was getting dark, and it was time to stop playing.
That light was our protector and our reminder to do what was right. And it occurs to me that we have a light with us today as well. And always will. A light to remind us to do what is right. Call it the light of Christ. Call it our conscience. Call it whatever you like. We all have it. And, like the street light of my childhood, I know if we heed the light and its warnings and beckonings, we will always be okay!
By the way . . . a few years ago my husband and I took our children to my old neighborhood, to show them where I grew up. The whole street was demolished so they could widen the freeway! Bigger and louder lullabies for the neighborhood children.